Okay, guys, help me out with this one. I get the impression that Haneke intended to make an art film about violence in cinema. What he accomplished, on the other hand, was to fashion an utterly sadistic explotation movie, made especially sadistic and explotive by reducing the suffering of the charaters to mere elements of a fictional narrative. Ironically, I think without the meta-narrative moments, this movie would have been exactly what he wanted it to be. Am I missing something?_________________"If you're talking about censorship, and what things should be shown and what things shouldn't be shown, I've said that as an artist you have no social responsibility whatsoever."

This is just a copy from a previous post in a different, long ago thread.

SPOILERS

"I'm glad you mentioned how some of the most significant events occur off-screen, and I think it provides a key to why Funny Games is justifiable. I was struck by how nearly all of the violence happens out of sight--but all of the consequences of said violence are intensely, visibly dwelled upon. The 10-minute "mourning" scene is amazing not just for its emotional accuracy, but also as a statement about how the aftermath of violence is often ignored in movies. (Also consider how we are given a 30-minute stretch where the parents must simply deal with the practical matters of survival, after the men have gone.) We are deprived of "relishing" the violence, but forced to confront its effects. To me, the clear subject of Funny Games is our relationship to screen violence, and Haneke implicates the audience in the brutalization of the characters--he reminds us that danger lies in our willingness to "enjoy" fictional blood for its own sake. Certainly a movie about violence is less reprehensible than something like, say, Bad Boys II, which revels in violence as a joyous act?

All five major characters are well-drawn and well-acted. I also admire the suspense--nearly Hitchcockian, I think--and the dialogue, which is always credible, original, and often blackly funny. Perhaps a masterpiece."

I don't think the film requires the meta-narrative gimmicks, but I do think they accentuate a theme that has already been capably developed. I actually watched it twice within a 2-week period--the second time with a friend--and the repeated viewing only increased my appreciation.

First, let me say that the movie started off on the wrong foot with me. In the opening scenes, when Paul and Peter arrive and start causing problems, the family all but allows them to. These people are victims because they allow themselves to be victimized (or, more accurately, the script forces them into a situation of victimization through inaction). There is absolutely no reason why Georg Sr. couldn't have, with the help of Anna, freed his family their clutches in the early portion, even after being injured by the golf club. Furthermore, there is no reason why Anna shouldn't have gotten help from her friends on the sailboat. (Was she really afraid for the safety of her family while a man was holding them hostage at golf club-point?) This whole first third struck me as deeply contrived.

Then, when Paul, while playing Hot-or-Cold? with Anna, looks over his shoulder and winks at us -- the audience -- I thought, "Okay, this is obviously an artificial scenario. What's the director saying?"

But I couldn't fathom what it was, other than perhaps suggesting to us that we the viewers are accountable for the victimization of the family by having one of the victimizers speak directly to us. Wha--?

beltmann wrote:

I was struck by how nearly all of the violence happens out of sight--but all of the consequences of said violence are intensely, visibly dwelled upon. The 10-minute "mourning" scene is amazing not just for its emotional accuracy, but also as a statement about how the aftermath of violence is often ignored in movies. (Also consider how we are given a 30-minute stretch where the parents must simply deal with the practical matters of survival, after the men have gone.) We are deprived of "relishing" the violence, but forced to confront its effects.

These portions of the movie are handled very well -- to a point. The "mourning scene" would have been devastating had the meta-narrative aspects and the contrivance of the scenario not established that we are only watching a movie -- a fiction, as Paul and Peter self-awarely discuss at the end.

Also, isn't holding on emotional pain just as exploitive as holding on graphic violence?

What would have worked much better, IMHO, would be the elimination of the meta-narrative aspects, a more convincing set-up, and focusing on the emotional angst of Anna and Georg after the boys leave -- for good. As it is, it seems as though Haneke wanted to make an exploitation movie without having to be held accountable for the exploitation._________________"If you're talking about censorship, and what things should be shown and what things shouldn't be shown, I've said that as an artist you have no social responsibility whatsoever."

I can see where you're coming from here, and to a degree I had a similar response. Yet I found it much less contrived than what we typically accept at the movies, and since I didn't mind the artificiality of some scenes--I was able to balance the realism with its breaks easily in my mind--I also didn't mind that Haneke employed the same conventions of the genre that he is, partially, subverting. Plus, I think the natural acting helped smooth over some of my reservations regarding contrivance.

the night watchman wrote:

Then, when Paul, while playing Hot-or-Cold? with Anna, looks over his shoulder and winks at us -- the audience -- I thought, "Okay, this is obviously an artificial scenario. What's the director saying?" But I couldn't fathom what it was, other than perhaps suggesting to us that we the viewers are accountable for the victimization of the family by having one of the victimizers speak directly to us. Wha--?

I think you're absolutely correct that the scene is about implicating the audience. Yet I viewed it as less about that specific scene or specific family than about such scenes in general. For me, the family is an abstract representation of the types of victims that often appear in this genre, and Haneke is using that to question why we, as a society, find such victimization entertaining as a matter of routine.

the night watchman wrote:

The "mourning scene" would have been devastating had the meta-narrative aspects and the contrivance of the scenario not established that we are only watching a movie -- a fiction, as Paul and Peter self-awarely discuss at the end.

Again, I can see your point. But for me, the meta-narrative gimmicks only solidified my reaction. Perhaps because I was viewing the picture in social terms rather than plot terms, this didn't bother me very much. Strangely, I think one of the great things about the movie is the way that Haneke is able to regularly give away the artificiality of the scenario yet still get us to care for the characters. Part of that is the credible dialogue, and part is the skillful, realistic direction of the actors. I found the "mourning scene" riveting, which might be a matter of taste.

the night watchman wrote:

Also, isn't holding on emotional pain just as exploitive as holding on graphic violence?

I agree entirely--but I don't think it applies in this case. For me, what justifies this long shot is the way it imparts insight into the psychology of such a situation. It is not merely dwelling on emotional pain. Also, it develops a point about how such psychological aspects are routinely ignored by most thrillers. The point is that most movies are able to make torment "fun" and "exciting" only because they deny the full truth of the situation. In other words, they tell lies. It's ironic that cartoonish distortions are tolerated by the masses, but the truth is called "exploitation." Isn't the reverse true? (I'm reminded of when Bob Dole complained about Natural Born Killers but then labeled True Lies family entertainment. One is violent escapism, while the other makes a case against violent escapism. If Dole had any sense, he would have realized that NBK was the film that agreed with him.)

the night watchman wrote:

What would have worked much better, IMHO, would be... focusing on the emotional angst of Anna and Georg after the boys leave -- for good.

No argument here. Both times I had the same reaction. Still, to defend Haneke's choice, it did seem like a way to subvert our usual genre expectations. Typically, there is a survivor. Here, there are none, and the finality of death is punctuated by the nonchalance of the boat scene. It happens, it's over, no music swells and no rescuers arrive in the nick of time, guns-ablazing. It does seem consistent with the film's theme.

the night watchman wrote:

As it is, it seems as though Haneke wanted to make an exploitation movie without having to be held accountable for the exploitation.

That's how I felt about Irreversible, and I think we always need to be on guard for such motivations. Yet, as I said before, Haneke's basic structure--deny us the pleasures of torture, but confront us with its aftermath, so often ignored by the movies--seems designed only to reveal the exploitation that exists in most other movies.

I'm reminded of when Bob Dole complained about Natural Born Killers but then labeled True Lies family entertainment. One is violent escapism, while the other makes a case against violent escapism. If Dole had any sense, he would have realized that NBK was the film that agreed with him.

You know, Dole hadn't even seen NBK when he condemned it. But I agree with you assessment of cartoon violence being tolerated while realistic violence is condemned.

beltmann wrote:

To defend Haneke's choice, it did seem like a way to subvert our usual genre expectations. Typically, there is a survivor. Here, there are none, and the finality of death is punctuated by the nonchalance of the boat scene. It happens, it's over, no music swells and no rescuers arrive in the nick of time, guns-ablazing. It does seem consistent with the film's theme.

Well, I think this ending would have made the point much better if it had been placed inside a real story rather than self-aware fiction.

beltmann wrote:

Yet, as I said before, Haneke's basic structure--deny us the pleasures of torture, but confront us with its aftermath, so often ignored by the movies--seems designed only to reveal the exploitation that exists in most other movies

Now that you put it that way, I think I understand why Funny Games raised my hackles. Haneke's made the mistake most moral watchdogs make in regard to violent movies, or rather, horror movies: There is no pleasure in watching people be victimized. Even in the cheesiest slasher movie, violence is presented as horrifying. The emotional trauma suffered by the survivors really is there. I think movies like Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer, Straw Dogs and even Last House on the Left and, yes, Irreversible make better cases against violence than Haneke makes with Funny Games. I realize there are people who get off of the cinematic carnage, but then again these are the people that would remain unaffected by Funny Games's subversion of the genre. And yet, so what if we get off on cinematic violence sometimes? It's a catharsis. If it fills us with fear and discomforts us, it?s a safe way to explore those difficult emotions. I'm a guy who watches a lot of violent movies, a lot of horror movies, and who isn't exactly inexperienced with real-life violence. Trust me, I know the difference, and real-life violence sickens me. The idea of it sickens me. I don?t need Haneke telling me that violence is really bad.

As Joe Bob Briggs pointed out, the moral watchdogs aren't worried about how violence affects them -- they can take it. They are worried about how it affects you -- and me, the guy who likes watching violent movies. There's more than a little arrogance and elitism in that position.

Maybe I?m overreacting, but I?ve had to defend my taste in movies and fiction and art in general more than once. It seems to me the moral watchdogs, and maybe even Haneke, are the ones have trouble telling fiction from reality._________________"If you're talking about censorship, and what things should be shown and what things shouldn't be shown, I've said that as an artist you have no social responsibility whatsoever."

I agree with everything you're saying, except that I don't think Haneke is taking the stance of a moral watchdog. Rather, I think he's talking about artistic preferences, trying to explain that so much of what passes as "mainstream" entertainment is dishonest and breeds complacency; in other words, it's bad art. I agree, though, that whether we accept his position may be related to taste.

You know, I don't even think there is such a thing as a violent movie. (Has there ever been a film guilty of physically injuring an audience?) There are movies that depict abstract representations of violence and movies that are about violence. (Haneke's preference is clearly the latter, and so is mine. This doesn't mean I don't enjoy something like Dead Alive from time to time.) When people talk about a "violent" movie, what they're really talking about is the degree of graphic imagery--and that determination is highly subjective.

Out of curiosity, would you have been more comfortable with Funny Games if it had been up front about its exploitation?

Haneke's made the mistake most moral watchdogs make in regard to violent movies, or rather, horror movies: There is no pleasure in watching people be victimized.

I agree that in most cases the violence is merely a catalyst to something else--suspense, fear, thrills--and serves the same basic function, as, say, roller coasters. Yet sometimes the act itself is indeed meant to be enjoyable--think of Desperado or House of 1000 Corpses, two movies that wrap their violence up in such slick, amusing, "cool" outfits that the act itself is clearly meant to be the turn-on. The artistic style simply doesn't allow the violence to work as a catalyst for anything else. That's the lame complacency that bothers Haneke, I think--he's offended as an intelligent artist, not as a watchdog.

I do think it's a mistake to say that there's no pleasure in on-screen violence. I know plenty of people whose sole interest in action and horror movies is to bask in the "cool" graphic imagery. That really is the end point for them. The question is whether that is inherently negative. As for Haneke, I'd argue that he's merely saying that violence ought to be used as a better catalyst, as a means to achieve more than just cheap roller coaster emotions. It's the quality of the roller coaster that he's taking to task, I think. Is there anything in Funny Games or Piano Teacher to suggest that Haneke would take issue with works like Texas Chainsaw or Henry? Not to my eyes.

Out of curiosity, would you have been more comfortable with Funny Games if it had been up front about its exploitation?

I think I would have emotionally invested myself in it (with a more convincing set-up). Like I said, when Paul winked at the camera, the movie became intellectual rather than visceral.

beltmann wrote:

There are movies that depict abstract representations of violence and movies that are about violence.

I agree. I think that's why I prefer horror movies to action movies; horror movies are about violence, or fear, while action movies depict violence purely for asthetic purposes. There are exceptions, of course; Dead Alive certainly has no social commentary or intellectually explores the images it depicts ['scuse me, I just started laughing uncontrollably for a moment there], while something like Narc is about it's characters' violent acts._________________"If you're talking about censorship, and what things should be shown and what things shouldn't be shown, I've said that as an artist you have no social responsibility whatsoever."

I think I would have emotionally invested myself in it (with a more convincing set-up). Like I said, when Paul winked at the camera, the movie became intellectual rather than visceral.

I can understand that. For me, the movie worked viscerally, but probably even more so intellectually. I also admit a certain bias (taste?) for academic fare; I don't see that as a reduction in experience at all.

I prefer horror movies to action flicks as well, for precisely the same reason you cited.

Postmodern literature leaves me pretty cold, and in many ways Funny Games is very postmodern. For me, metanarratives do nothing better than straight narratives do, and are usually distracting._________________"If you're talking about censorship, and what things should be shown and what things shouldn't be shown, I've said that as an artist you have no social responsibility whatsoever."

I just checked out this thread, but I wanted to say that I would call "Funny Games" really truly brilliant. I've read, actually, many essays that sympathize with night watchman's statements, calling it cold, distracting, and uninvolding. Personally, I found it stimulating intellectually and emotionally, if only because the psychological torment depicted onscreen is so unusual for a movie that seems so fundamentally routine. The way everything falls into place in the first third is implausible, but I thought that did a good job at reinforcing the suspense-movie convention that unwise families let vicious killers into their homes with unsuspecting readiness while the audience knows better (I was reminded of the unknowing families in "The Hand that Rocks the Cradle" or "Dead Calm", for example); the fact that the film starts as such a "basic" exercise in thrills only made the eventual heartache and distress - for me - truly aching. I, too, had troubles with some of the goofy postmodern tricks - the wink at the audience that you mentioned earlier is perhaps too steeped in irony for its own good - but I also agree that such tricks do a superb job at toying with audience emotions (that wink, as self-conscious as it is, tells the audience, "Yeah, you know you're excited by this," with a sudden unexpectancy that shocked me). The very ending, involving the wife's murder, could be called diabolical and cruel - Haneke has toyed around with us for a while only to emphasize that there is no save-the-day heroism, there is only a sick and nonchalant tinge of real-world sadism. Call me morbid, but I was shocked, terrified, and saddened by that conceit - in a good way.

[quote="matt header"] ... that wink, as self-conscious as it is, tells the audience, "Yeah, you know you're excited by this."[quote]

You're probably right about that, and I think that's why Haneke has misjudged both the genre he tries to subvert and the audience he wants to indict. I wonder what the results would have been had he decided to allow the Anna or Georg speak directly to the audience._________________"If you're talking about censorship, and what things should be shown and what things shouldn't be shown, I've said that as an artist you have no social responsibility whatsoever."

A very good point, but I interpreted Haneke's main intent as subverting how we usually respond sympathetically to the plight of the heroes but, at the same time, are intrigued and fascinated by the cruelty of the villains. Having the killers speak directly to the audience sort of undercuts, I think, how we respond to movie violence; implicating the audience so much in the killers' actions criticizes (perhaps unfairly, but very persuasively) how intrigued we usually are by it.

A brilliant film that is maybe even the most unflinching examination of the way we casually view and accept violence ever depicted and it's close to being a masterpiece. I like the discussion going on -- if I wasn't so busy at the moment, I'd go into greater length. But for now, I think that the people who say that the family is hard to sympathize with because they are very vaguely sketched are missing the point in this aspect of Haneke's intent in having it this way -- this just makes their situation an even sadder one and in my humble opinion, we are pulled in even more (particularly after the long mourning scene that Eric perfectly nailed in his initial post).

I even consider Haneke as one of our most important filmmakers right now, and cannot wait to see Time of the Wolf, and I ordered The Seventh Continent a while ago, and haven't recieved it yet. Saying that he would not associate himself with a film like Texas Chainsaw Massacre or Last House on the Left is very true, as it doesn't seem like his type of depiction of on-screen violence or terror, etc. (However: it seems as if August Underground and Funny Games have something in common in the way that both of the films do not belong in any genre or section in a videostore because they are essentially comedies because the film is being made by the killers, basically.) Here in Funny Games, Haneke says that he is only attempting to resensitize us and he doesn't stoop to violent and graphic imagery:

"For the film viewer, the boundary between real existence and representation has been hard to discern from the outset, and it is precisely this which has endowed film with a major part of its fascination. The oscillation between the disconcerting feeling of taking part in a real happening, and the emotional security of seeing only the depiction of an artificially created or even discovered reality, was what indeed first enables development of this genre. Violence became domesticated through its representation, and the agreeable shudder of horror was entirely welcome in homeopathic doses. The controlled conjuring up of evil enabled hope that it might be brought under control in reality.

The scene changed with the arrival of television. The documentary element came to the forefront. (After its early beginnings, and in any event as far as acceptance by the audience was concerned, this soon became a marginal area of cinema.)

The speed with which information is transmitted via electronic media, as well as the rapid spread of such media, has led to a change in ways of seeing. The brute power of the impression created by the larger-than-life dimensions of the screen upon a one-off visit to the cinema has been matched and indeed overtaken by the vast mass of impressions and their permanent presence in the living room at home. Indeed, building on the dramatic and aesthetic forms of cinema, television has changed these forms through permanence of use.

Cinema attempted to counter subjugation by the omnipresence of the electronic media through an enhancement of its own resources, which television – as far as it was technically able – immediately also integrated into its own system. The compulsion always to go one better led to the permanent paroxysm of the striving for intensity and thus indirectly also to a further blurring of the boundaries between reality and representation. (In terms of the portrayal of violence, the producers of fictional violence had to compete, using greater visual values, with the sensation of authentic horror. In the battle against this, journalistic ambition lost its last rudiments of respect for the dignity of the victims whom it exposed.) No end to this tendency is in sight – on the contrary: it appears only just to have begun – in the battle for market gains and viewer quotas, every innovation, whether technical or artistic in nature, contributes towards driving it onward.

It is the form of representation which determines the effect of content. The failing on the part of operators in the media battle in terms of realizing this maxim appears to consist in the fact that, during their striving to continually intensify the effect of form, content has become an interchangeable dimension. This applies to violence just as much as to its opposite, to victims of war just as much to the stars of TV series, to cars just as much as to toothpaste. The absolute equivalency of their content, devoid of reality, guarantees universal fictionality of what is shown, and thereby that ardently sought feeling of security on the part of the consumer. The relationship between form and content of classical aesthetics appears to have become obsolete. The ethics of selling have little in common with those of a possible social contract.

A solution to this dilemma cannot be discerned – how could it be otherwise? And yet, what is worth trying? Assuming the premise that all forms of art reflect the conditions under which they are received, at least in the context of contemporary society, and that they reflect these not merely from the economic aspect of distribution potential, but also that of human dialogue, what does this mean, in the light of the above, for the artifact of media forms? Consternation at the fact that their recipient, the viewer, might degenerate to the point of being an indifferent consumer of interchangeable empty forms, or that he has indeed already thus degenerated, also comprises a utopian element, for it drives one to ask: how can the disconnected dialogue be reinstated, how can I restore to my representation the value of reality which it has lost?

Or, in other words: how do I give the viewer the possibility of indeed perceiving this loss of reality and his own involvement therein, so that he may thereby free himself from being a victim of the medium and become its potential partner?

The question is not: what may I show? But rather: what opportunity do I give the viewer to recognize what is shown for that which it is? Specifically on the subject of violence, the problem is not: how do I show violence, but: how do I show the viewer his own position in relation to violence and its portrayal?" -- Michael Haneke_________________My apparent website

Thanks for the Haneke quote, filmsRpriceless--really fascinating stuff. By the way, I too am anxiously awaiting Time of the Wolf and think it has terrific potential. Did you happen to read the profile in this month's issue of Sight & Sound?